


throw me a dream please, it's been a dreamless sleep

by bravefortheboys



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: AU, M/M, New Year's Eve, he also ALSO doesn't know why he keeps buying what harry hands him, he also doesn't know why he puts up with greg, louis has no idea how to get places
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-01
Updated: 2014-01-01
Packaged: 2018-01-07 00:57:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1113594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bravefortheboys/pseuds/bravefortheboys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em> The thing is - Louis never gets himself into situations like this. Anytime Louis wants to do anything remotely fun, Greg treats him like some sort of child and it’s fucking irritating. But here he is with Harry, who’s currently asking the store employee if he can test drive some of the fireworks to see which ones are the ‘prettiest’ in the absolute worst Southern accent the world has ever heard. </em>
</p>
<p>it's New Year's Eve and Louis is trying to gain the title of 'official boyfriend' of some asshole who doesn't deserve him by completing ridiculous tasks, but he can't really help fonding over the goofy stranger who's helping him out</p>
            </blockquote>





	throw me a dream please, it's been a dreamless sleep

**Author's Note:**

> (partially inspired by the Jubilee Express part in the book 'Let it Snow' by John Green, Maureen Johnson, and Lauren Myracle)
> 
> title from I Sing, I Swim by Seabear
> 
> ~
> 
> why haven't i posted anything in so long iDK MAN but hopefully (fingers crossed v tightly) i'm back in the groove bc there are LOTS of things i would love to write!!! it's just a matter of finding the time and patience oi
> 
> also, it's 4:33 am so if there are yucky mistakes, I APOLOGIZE! i'll get to them asap!!
> 
>  
> 
> on another note, i hope you all had a fantastic new years!!!

 “Don’t die on me now, baby,” Louis pleads, gripping tightly until his knuckles turn pale. “Please, not now.”

Louis steps lightly down on the gas pedal and – nothing. Dead. If he were in a rom-com movie, this would definitely be the part where a hot shirtless glistening man would step up and offer his car knowledge to _pump some tires_ (or some ass). Either that, or he is about to come across a creepy cannibal guy who is about to hold him captive for torture.

Louis whimpers to himself.

To make matters worse, he’s about an hour away from a New Years Eve party hosted by his not-official-but-also-not- _un_ official boyfriend. Not to mention he’s got no fucking idea how to navigate himself in London when there’s like fifty trillion cars and people around. Like, what the fuck is his life right now.

He slumps back against his chair, defeated. It’s partially his fault, honestly. It might’ve been more practical to head to the party a bit earlier than 10 minutes before the party, considering he’s completely shit at finding locations. So no, he’s not too mad about it. He’s just mad about how it has to be _now_ and _here_ , of all times and places.

There are cars honking and angry swear words being shouted, but Louis couldn’t care less. He’d much rather wallow in self-pity, thank you very much.

He grabs his coat and slips his phone and wallet into his jeans before slipping out and flipping off the line of angry drivers.

“Go around, knob-heads,” Louis shouts back, offering a gleaming smile as he scampers off to the sidewalk before any of them can attempt to run him over or something.

He pulls his phone out and calls Greg, assuming that maybe there’s a chance he can be his knight in shining armor for now.

“Hey, y’alright? Need directions?”

It’s so condescending yet there’s the small glimmer of hope in Louis that thinks maybe it’s because Greg cares. He can faintly hear the sound of chatter in the background and he sniffles to himself because _he should be there_.

“No, actually. My car broke down and I have no fucking idea how to navigate around this bloody area. Like, _fuck_ , you just _had_ to have your party in some pretentious flat in the city ---”

“S’not my fault Nick offered to use his flat. He’s letting us use the _rooftop_ , babe. The _rooftop_. Also, there’s gonna be a DJ and martinis and –”

Louis groans, slumping against the wall of a smelly restaurant. “That all sounds real nice, but it’d be even nicer if you could pick me up right now.”

Greg sighs into the phone and Louis rolls his eyes in anticipation of the excuse that’s inevitably going to come up. “I can’t. I’ve got to help Nick with setup and all that. In fact, d’ya think you can pick up a few things on the way?”

Louis opens his mouth to spurt out an ‘ _are you fucking kidding me. have you not heard a word I’ve said’_ but then Greg continues with, “Call a cab, yeah? And pick up a few cases of beer, a case of fireworks, and maybe some sparklers. You’re the best, Lou Boo. I’ll call you in an hour or so.”

The phone clicks before Louis even has the chance to cringe at the use of Lou Boo, which Greg knows he _hates_.

Louis sighs and thinks about his choices. He could definitely go straight to the party right now just to spite Greg and his stupid orders. Or he can do as he’s told and win some brownie points and possibly the permanent title of _boyfriend_.

S’not even that Louis is completely head-over-heels for Greg. It’s just that they’ve been fucking around too long and doing too many coupley things without an official title, and it’s driving Louis insane. Greg claims it’d just ruin things and make it all awkward, but. There’s also the fact that that’s a completely idiotic reason and what Louis wants, Louis gets.

So Louis sets off into the streets to complete the quest of winning the title of boyfriend.

 

 

By the time he’s walked down 3 different streets filled with no sign of what he’s looking for, he’s pretty sure his hands are going to freeze over and his limbs are going to fall off. It’s been sprinkling on and off, but it’s enough to cover Louis in a nice coat of cold water. Fantastic.

It isn’t until he walks around an ice rink twice that he sees there’s an open café that looks cozy and empty enough for him to have a mental breakdown in.

Louis sighs of relief to himself, scuttling over to the other side of the street and pushing himself into the warm haven. He shakes off the wet droplets that have built up on his coat, reveling much too happily in the warmth.

“Mate, m’sorry we’re closing now,” a guy who looks like a human puppy says apologetically as he tosses his apron off to the side.

Louis’ heart sinks just a bit.

“Well, _fuck_ ,” Louis groans to himself, scrubbing his face (and wiping off some water droplets in the process). “Please just give me, like, _two_ minutes or something. My car broke down and I’ve got to get to a party and it’s so fucking cold out—”

“S’actually the coldest temperature ever in London,” barista #2 (a tall lanky and rather attractive brunette) says as he emerges from the bathroom.

“Bullshit,” Louis challenges. Mostly just to get a reaction from the cutie. But also because that’s full of shit.

Cutie smirks and fusses with his already (intentionally) messy curly quiff. “Well, the coldest it’s been so far this week.”

Puppy chuckles and bumps hips with Cutie as he hops over the counter and gathers his things. “Ya might wanna check your facts next time, H. Also,” puppy turns to Louis. “sorry, but you should probably get going –”

“I’ll stay,” Cutie says, shifting his eyes from both Puppy and Louis. “I don’t have anywhere to be, anyways. I’ll lock up, Liam.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Louis says, but it’s all Louis’ relying on right now.

Cutie scoffs and turns to pull out a mug. “Well there’s no way I’m letting you go back out there without a working car. S’New Year’s Eve. You’ve probably got places to go.”

Louis swoons and is almost positive he’s already in love with a guy he doesn’t even know the first name of.

Liam tosses a pair of keys at Cutie and gives Louis a little nod.

“You’re a champ, H,” Liam says with a glowing smile. He then turns to partially face Louis, giving a sympathetic look like a concerned mother. “If your plans don’t work out, you should come to Niall’s New Year’s party. S’just a small little get together, but the more the merrier.”

“Yeah,” Cutie chips in with a grin, and Louis’d find it charming if he didn’t feel so much like a charity case right now. “There’ll be good food, good music, and Ni’s just bought the new Just Dance game. What more could you ever want, right?”

Liam snorts and bumps hips with Harry, waving them both off and saying a goodbye. Louis stands dumbly, still at the doorway, as Harry puts away some mugs.  

“Um,” Louis says, hesitantly stepping up to the counter so he can speak more clearly to Cutie. “Thanks so much for doing this. You really didn’t have to.”

“S’fine, pal,” Cutie says, turning back to reassuringly smile at Louis. “S’only like, 10, anyways. We’ve got time.”

Louis internally yelps at ‘ _we_ ’.

“I’m Louis, by the way.”

 “Harry,” Harry replies, and who cares if Louis swoons. “So, where’s your car now?”

“Er… the middle a street right now, actually.”

Harry pauses what he’s doing and slowly turns back at Louis. He waits, as if Louis is about to deliver a punch line, but then proceeds to erupt in laughter when he realizes that _was_ the punch line. “Bloody hell, man. Way to leave a mark. I could call a tow truck to pick it up, if ya want? My dad’s friend owns this company, so -”

“Yes,” Louis says much too desperately.

Harry chuckles to himself and wipes his hands on is jeans (which are practically painted on, Louis notices), slipping out his phone from his butt pocket and dialing a number.

Louis waits awkwardly while Harry talks on the phone, occasionally chirping in to answer questions about the car’s location and his insurance company every now and then. He’s absently tapping on the counter when Harry finally hangs up.

“Alright, he’s on his way to pick it up now. Free of charge since I’ve got a connection,” Harry winks. He bites the inside of his cheek and hesitates for a second. “Um, if this doesn’t sound too creepy, I could definitely give you a ride to wherever you need to go. Like, I don’t need to be at Niall’s party till like 10 minutes before midnight since it’s more of an after-new year’s party? If that makes sense? It’d be no trouble at all.”

Louis’ heart is definitely melting. It’s not every day he’s confronted with such a sweetheart like Harry. “That sounds great, but I can just call a cab or something.”

Harry scoffs and jumps over the counter, his phone and coat in hand. “A cab on New Year’s Eve? You’ll have to wait till next year to get one.”

Louis watches as Harry purses his lips together proudly and he’s almost positive that Harry is mentally patting himself on the back.

“That’s… I mean. I don’t want to inconvenience you. Like, I’ve got a few things to pick up---”

Harry slips his coat on and nods towards the doors. “Then we better get going.”

Louis rushes to block Harry from the door. “Wait! I mean, I can’t just… we’re _strangers_ , Harry. I’m not getting into a car with a _stranger_.” He’s only _partially_ serious. He just wants to see if there’s any chance of a banter, really.

 Harry sucks in his bottom lip and nods slowly. “Good point. You could be a serial killer, for all I know.”

“ _Me_?!” Louis squawks, sitting on the edge of a nearby table. “You’re the one who’s basically the reincarnation of slender man, you long-limbed _goon_.”

Harry sits on one of the chairs and reaches up to bop Louis’ nose. “Name calling isn’t nice, shorty.”

Louis opens his mouth to snap back with a comment, but Harry places his rather large hand over Louis’ mouth (and Louis’ doesn’t take time to think dirty thoughts about it, nope).

“So my name is Harry Edward Styles. I’m 19, but I turn 20 in February, so no teenager jokes. I’m living here in London since I’m attending school here.”

“Am I in the presence of a smarty pants?” Louis questions, tapping his foot against Harry’s knee.

Harry grins and shakes his head meekly. “Nah. S’not like Uni or anything. It’s, erm, culinary school.”

Louis raises an eyebrow and something about the image of Harry being a chef makes his tummy go all warm and fuzzy. Harry in an apron. Harry in _only_ an apron. This is too much to handle. “My, my. Well I’ll have to hold you to making me a gourmet meal someday.”

“Give me a time and date and I’m your man,” Harry says with a wink, causing Louis to _almost_ lose balance and topple over. He can tell this’ll be a long, torturous trip.

For the next 10 minutes ago, they continue the pattern of random fact, small banter, and flirty comment, each time resulting in Louis getting flustered and almost embarrassing himself. They talk until they feel well acquainted enough to start the quest of Louis earning the official title as _boyfriend_ (which Louis doesn’t tell Harry, obviously).

 

 

The thing is - Louis _never_ gets himself into situations like this. Anytime Louis wants to do anything remotely fun, Greg treats him like some sort of _child_ and it’s fucking irritating. But here he is with Harry, who’s currently asking the store employee if he can test drive some of the fireworks to see which ones are the ‘prettiest’ in the absolute _worst_ Southern accent the world has ever heard.

“Sir, there is no way I can legally –”

“Then break some laws!” Harry nudges the middle-aged stumpy employee with and enthusiastic nod. “You’d be doing my good ol’ friend here a _huge_ favor.”

Louis bites back laughter and tries to nod along because he’s rather curious about what’ll happen.

The man shakes his head stubbornly once again and Harry opens his mouth to argue again, but Louis places a hand on his shoulder.

“S’fine, H. I trust this man’s decisions.”

Harry snorts and shrugs at the man as Louis takes the box from his hands, offering an apologetic look and small nod of thanks as he pulls Harry along with him to the sparklers section.

“You _bugger_! Was all that necessary?” Louis asks, but he’s grinning wide enough to absorb his entire face.

“Fireworks are a big deal, Louis. M’not gonna let you embarrass yourself by bringing shitty ones to a party,” Harry says in a childlike serious-tone. Kinda like when his little sisters try to tell him _true facts_ about fairies.

“You’re a real charmer, Harry. That’s how you get all the girls, innit?” Louis avoids gagging at the idea of Harry with a girl, but considering his luck today, there’s a 100% chance Harry is already in a relationship with some model.

Harry giggles and hands a few boxes of sparklers to Louis. (How many does Harry think is necessary?) “Well, I’d say that it works better with blokes. At least, I’d hope. M’not too fond of… girl bits.”

Louis coughs as he feels his cheeks turn pink just a smidgen. Perhaps this the universe’s way of apologizing. He racks his mind for a cheeky comeback when his phone rings.

 “Hullo?” Louis answers, hearing the faint sound of blaring music and laughing people.

“Louis!” Greg says happily into the phone. “I hope you’re not on your way here yet.”

Louis drags his foot across the tile floor absentmindedly. “Nope. Just getting some fireworks and sparklers, as a matter of fact.”

“Perfect!” Greg pauses to kiss someone’s cheek, and Louis tries to mask his deep sigh of frustration. “Listen, I need you to pick up some fresh berries that’ll be enough for about… 80 people.”

Louis rolls his eyes as dramatically as he can, even though Greg can’t see it. He hopes Greg can still sense it. “Greg, that’s absolutely ridiculous. And s’already like 10:30. I won’t make it if I have to—”

“Please babe? For me?” Louis can practically _hear_ the ridiculous puppy-eyes. 

Louis sighs and hopes his frustration resonates well through the phone line, but gives in anyway. “Of course, babe. See ya in a few.”

Louis hangs up before he can ask for anything else and slips his phone back into his pocket.

“So, um,” Harry says awkwardly, and Louis definitely didn’t keep in mind that Harry was standing there the whole time. “Boyfriend, I assume?”

 Louis _would_ be mad that he’s been eavesdropping this entire time, but it’s probably impossible to be mad at Harry. There are probably scientists on the case right now.

So instead, he chuckles bitterly and nods towards the cash register, walking towards it with Harry following behind. “Not really. But, like. Yes. Kind of.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Harry asks while helping Louis set down the boxes, which turn out to be 8 boxes of different kinds of fireworks and 10 boxes of sparklers that are in sets of 10. That’s 100 fucking sparklers. Louis has no idea how he ended up with that much, but he decides not to question it now.

Louis shrugs while some tired looking teenage boy rings up the boxes with a less than impressed expression. “We’re not official, but we kinda just do coupley things. Like we fuck and make out and on occasion we’ll go on dates and stuff. But he doesn’t like the term _boyfriend_. Finds it too binding.”

Harry cocks his head and looks like he’s about to say something spiteful, but bites his lips down and grabs for the bags of boxes instead. “So. He’s hosting a party or something?”

“This huge New Year’s Eve party on a rooftop and all that. S’already in full force, but he wants me to pick up a few more things,” Louis says nonchalantly as he pays for all the explosions.

“Well, that’s fucked up of him,” Harry snorts, leading the two back to his car.

They’re silent for most of the ride there, and it feels so awkward and out of place. Louis stares out the window and can see small little snowflakes start to sprinkle down onto the ground, and for a second Louis feels like maybe he can forget about this all. But he can’t leave it at that note.

“S’my own fault for being late. The least I can do is bring some stuff, y’know?” Louis sighs. He’s not precisely sure when he felt the need to back up every little thing Greg did that was even the slightest bit douchey, but.  “He’s a great guy, okay?”

“I’m sure he’s quite the character,” Harry mumbles, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel.

Louis furrows his eyebrows, picking out the true meaning. He would dwell on it longer if it weren’t for Harry’s abrupt turn into another parking lot.

“What the hell? Where are you taking us?”

“Tesco,” Harry states matter-of-factly, facing Louis to smile a huge boxy-like smile that makes his eyes crinkle up to the point where they’re almost nonexistent. Harry’s a living-breathing child, Louis has gathered.

“Why? You don’t even know what I need.”

Harry rolls his eyes and backs up into a spot conveniently located in front of the store. “Tesco has everything. If you need it, they’ll have it.”

Louis snorts and slides out of the car, pulling his hood up and walking beside Harry (perhaps a bit closer than before… it’s quite chilly, after all). “That’s ridiculous.”

“Tesco’s not a joke, Louis, it’s like a home.”

“Right. Sorry,” Louis apologizes to the Tesco sign shining brightly above them. Louis turns to Harry to make sure he’s got his approval, but Harry’s already staring him down. But it’s like. Full of _something_. His eyes look full of something and Louis can’t quite put his finger on it, but it makes him squirm just a bit. “So, uh. Y’mind leading the way to the alcohol section, pal?”

Harry snaps out of his whatever-daze and hooks his finger into Louis’ belt loop, literally pulling him into the aisle full of bottles. “Beer, yeah?”

Louis furrows his eyebrows and blinks, aware yet not wary of the fact that Harry’s still got his finger looped in. “Yeah. How’d you know?”

Harry chuckles and hands two boxes of some beer brand Louis’ never heard of to him, grabbing another two for himself to hold (Louis should really have a talk with Harry about proportions). “Because. The kind of guy who hosts a party on a rooftop is the same kind of guy who feels too high-and-mighty to be caught dead buying such a drab drink as _beer_. That’s why he’s got his whipped _somewhat_ boyfriend doing all the dirty work.”

Louis’ jaw goes slack and his eyes are confused on whether to widen or narrow in defense. Eventually, they just go for a stupid in-between look and Louis’ sure he looks completely idiotic.

“Um. Ouch?” Louis isn’t quite sure _what_ to say. It’s not really _wrong_ , but. It’s not nice to hear, either.

Harry pouts at the ground, like a child who’s getting lectured by his mum. “It just seems a bit unfair. S’close to midnight and your _‘boyfriend’_ is living it up on a rooftop while you’re here running errands with some stranger.”

Louis sucks his cheeks in and decides against continuing any talk of Greg for the rest of this trip. “You’re not just _any_ stranger. You’re Harry Styles – future 5-star chef.”

Harry huffs as he smiles at Louis all bashful and cute. “Oi, you’re making me blush.”

“Precisely the point.” Louis taps Harry’s nose lightly and leads the way over to the fruit section.

“What do you have to get now?” Harry after yawning shortly, which resembles a baby kitten much too closely for Louis not to coo affectionately (luckily, Harry isn’t paying attention).

“Fresh berries.”

Harry looks like he’s going to say something challenging, but shakes his head and points his chin towards the area where the berries are.

As Louis gathers some of the crates, he wonders what his true feelings are about this whole situation. On one hand, yes, he definitely wants Greg to call him his boyfriend so everything can be set in stone. But on the other, he’s sure that he wants it just for the sake of having someone to call his own. And like, yeah, the whole ownership thing in relationships is wrong and creepy, but sometimes it’s nice to call someone his own. But still. If he’s about to throw everything off for some guy he’s just met today, well. He’s got bigger problems than that.

“’Kay, I’ve got, like, 10 boxes of strawberries. Is that enough for 80 people?” Louis questions, and he’s not so sure if Harry’s the right person to ask.

Harry shakes his head and grabs another 10 boxes, then 20 boxes of blueberries right beside them.  “This’ll be good for about… 30 people. Be a doll a grab 2 carts for us, yeah?”

 

Louis isn’t exactly sure how, but he’s now in the process of trying to store more than 80 boxes of assorted berries into the backseat of Harry’s car. The weird looks they received while waiting in line weren’t so bad. The annoyed glare from the cashier was whatever. Hauling the two cartfuls of berries to Harry’s car was fine. But _this_ takes the cake as the #1 most frustrating thing Louis’ done this entire year.

“Jesus _Christ_ , Harry, where do you get your numbers?” Louis grunts as he leans over a stack of blueberries to cram a few more strawberry crates into the nook. There’s a bunch of bananas (on Harry’s request) that’s poking at his ribs and some blueberry juice on his shirt and face. But, of course, Harry still looks clean and pristine like a Greek god holding cartons in his muscular arms.

“I’m in culinary school, remember? I know my food.” Harry smirks as his hands Louis the remaining cartons, pushing the carts back to wherever the hell they belong.

Louis settles back into the car with an exhausted plop. He checks his phone and reads 11:28, immediately setting him into panic mode.

“Harry! Ha- _rreh_ , _Harry,_ Hazza, Harold, H—”

“Yeah? What?” Harry asks worriedly as he slips into the car, gazing at Louis with the cutest expression ever. Everything about Harry is so cute and Louis is in a love/hate relationship with it.

“It’s 11:28. We have like 30 minutes and the flat is on the other side of town and there’s going to be traffic and I won’t be there in time and –”

Harry’s already pulling out of the parking lot by the time Louis can fully finish whatever he’s rambling about.

“Use your map thingy on your phone, yeah?”

Which, _duh_.

Louis types in the address and sets the phone on his thigh, waiting patiently as the robotic tone finishes its instructions.

He takes a deep breath and fiddles with his fingers. The wait in silence for a bit, and Louis takes some time to appreciate the excellent facial features Harry is sporting. In all of Louis’ 22 years, he’s _never_ seen lips as delectable as Harry’s, nor has he seen such shiny beautiful eyes. He feels a bit bad for thinking about him in this way without even _thanking_ him properly.

Louis forces himself to tear his eyes off Harry and he settles back into his seat. “I don’t think I had the time to fully thank you for all this.”

“No need, Lou,” Harry says, smiling over at Louis as he waits at a stoplight. “M’glad to help.”

Louis’ heart feels like it’s about to burst because he’s truly never met anyone like Harry before and the fact that the night is almost over and he’ll never see him again shreds his heart apart.

 “But really,” Louis says with a small, pathetic laugh. “I’d be _nowhere_ without you. Really. So, thanks. Maybe we can exchange numb—”

Louis’ phone rings at that very moment; Greg’s face popping up along with his name followed by heart emojis. He swallows and looks up at Harry with an apologetic half smirk, picking up the phone.

“Greg,” Louis greets with a less than enthusiastic tone.

“Louis, where are you? S’already 11:36!” Greg sounds properly wasted, but he’s still got that stern ‘I’m older than you so it’s kinda like I’m your superior’ voice. “I was counting on you, babe.”

Louis shuts his eyes in order to prevent what must be the millionth eye roll of the night. “Things got backed up, Greg. I told you, my car broke down and I had to—”

“S’not even a big deal, Lou,” Greg whines into the phone, and Louis’ a bit relieved he gets to miss Greg’s whiny-drunk side in person. “Just. Get here, yeah? Now.”

The phone clicks and Louis _really_ wants to just throw it out now. He takes a deep breath and sets his phone down so the directions are audible again.

“That was the 3rd time he called you tonight,” Harry says. It sounds like a bit of a challenge. Like he’s expecting Louis to defend that. But the thing is, Louis doesn’t really have the energy to side with anyone at the moment.

“Just get there faster,” Louis mutters. He feels a bit bad for being so sullen, but he also feels like he’s got every right to.

 They drive the rest of the drive in silence, and they still don’t say a word when Harry pulls up to a packed parking lot while the robotic GPS voice says, “You have reached your destination.”

Harry unbuckles, which Louis promptly follows, and they both just sit there for a minute or two. Louis observes how the snow has picked up again, and he wonders how the rooftop party is even a thing right now. He imagines they’re all miserably huddling together with their cocktail party dresses and pretentious drinks, relying on _fireworks_ to keep them warm.

 “You’re settling, Lou,” Harry says finally, breaking Louis from his fantasy.

“What?”

“You’re settling for Greg because you think he’s so much better than he actually is and now you don’t think you’ll be able to get better than him. He treats you like his own personal lap dog, but. You don’t deserve that.”

“Oh, really now? S’quite impressive how a complete fucking stranger is telling me what I deserve.”

“Lou, I didn’t mean – ”

“Right, you didn’t mean it. You’re just Harry ‘nice guy’ Styles! No offence whatsoever. Just good ol’ manners and entitlements to other people’s relationships!” Louis laughs bitterly and chews on his bottom lip. God, he _really_ doesn’t know what he’s doing, but he grabs all the bags he can carry (which is everything minus the crates of berries) and gets of the car. He trudges through the snow and ignores the way it’s seeping into his stupid canvas shoes. Stupid stupid stupid. This is all Harry stupid Styles’ fault.

“Louis!” Harry calls out, so Louis starts trudging a bit faster. But, of _course_ , the bag of 10 boxes of sparklers chooses to tear right at that moment.

“ _Shit._ ”

 Louis kicks at the snow, which just buries the boxes in a cover of white. The world hates him.

Louis sighs as he picks up all the boxes and thinks about what Harry said, about Greg. And yeah, maybe it made a _little_ sense. And yeah, he definitely deserves better than spending New Years running errands like a lap dog.

Louis hears Harry clear his throat awkwardly behind him, so Louis sighs audibly and turns to face him.

“What are you doing?” Harry asks. It almost sounds like when his mom used to get passive-aggressive at him. They’d get along quite well, Louis thinks. But now is definitely not the time to think about Harry getting on with his parents. What the fuck. Louis looks down at the boxes and bags splayed around and then over at the cases of beer still sitting in Harry’s backseat.

Harry stares at Louis for a moment before kneeling down to pick up the dropped goods. “I’ll help you bring all the stuff into the party and you can keep pretending you’re happy with someone who treats you like shit, alright? Just admit it.”

Harry looks up at Louis with eyes all wide and hopeful, and Louis’ about to say something snappy when his phone rings. Of _fucking_ course. Harry scoffs, as if this is some fucking joke to him now, as he stands up straight, forgetting the boxes and looking at Louis expectantly.

It’s embarrassing, really, to hear a whole spiel about being a lapdog and then to continue answering order. Yet, Louis takes out his phone.

He takes out his phone and examines it, staring at Greg’s name and picture, and.

Louis brings his arm back and flings the phone as far as he can so that it disappears into the white blanket of snow.

It seems like an _eternity_ passes before anything else happens.  Louis sighs full of relief. “It’s gone.”

He blinks once over to where it’s disappeared. Then, over to Harry. Except, Harry isn’t looking at where the phone went. His eyes are plastered on Louis, and his brows are furrowed in the smallest bit. His head is cocked and overall, he has the most confused expression on his face right now.

Louis opens his mouth to justify his actions, but then Harry’s lips interlock with Louis’ and there are arms around him and most likely lifting him up right now (Louis’ legs are a bit numb).

“I’m sorry,” Harry mumbles against Louis’ lips, trying to pull back so he can formally apologize. But _no_ , he just wants Harry’s lips on his own forever.

“You’re right, though,” Louis hums back, gnawing on Harry’s bottom lip as he pulls his face back so they can look each other in the eye. “I deserve _way_ better than Greg. I deserve someone who’ll drive me around the fucking city on New Years to run stupid errands for a stupid guy who I don’t even want to end up with, anyway.”

There’s snow getting in the way of everything, but Louis is almost positively sure that Harry’s eyes transform into hearts and he can practically feel the flutter in his stomach (although it’s definitely mutual).

Harry beams and sets Louis down carefully, dropping a kiss onto his forehead before swooping down to grab all the fallen groceries. “You’re coming to Niall’s party with me, alright? We’ll enter holding hands and I’ll introduce you to everyone as my boyfriend.”

Louis internally squeals and giggles to himself (or at least, he _tries_ to keep it internal). “Quite the charmer you are.”

He watches Harry straighten back up with all the groceries in hand, cocking his head towards his car. “Ready?”

“Mhm, ready as I’ll ever be,” Louis says with a smug smile. He’s about to follow Harry when something dawns on him. “Oh _shit_ ,” Louis mutters, looking back at the increasing pile of snow that’s building up.

“What?”

Louis looks back up at Harry with big eyes. “My _phone._ I just threw my fucking phone into the _snow_ and – and I don’t even know where?!”

It’s silent for about two seconds before they’re both doubling over in laughter, tears brimming both of their eyes.

“That was a fucking iPhone and – it – _FUCK_.”

Harry laughs even harder to the point where it sounds strangely close to a cackle. “Why’d you do that, you knob-head!”

“It was an act of romance, alright? It was for the sake of making you swoon, Harold,” Louis states with a grin, reaching for Harry’s belt loop and pulling him close. “The _least_ you can do is show your appreciation.”

“Oh, right.” Harry clears his throat and bats his eyelashes, bringing his voice up a few pitches. “Oh, Louis, my big strong hero! Thank you _so_ much for sacrificing your ridiculously priced phone that’ll cost an arm and a leg to replace! You’re the smartest prince in the kingdom.”

Louis rolls his eyes and steps on Harry’s foot, which is probably numb as well.

“C’mon now, Styles. I’ve got 8 boxes of fireworks, 10 boxes of sparklers, 4 cases of beer, and enough berries to feed a village. Let’s have an amazing New Year’s party.”

 

 

It’s really weird how things worked out. Harry’s friends are actually the coolest and nicest and funnest people ever and they spend the entire night eating berries and drinking beer and setting off fireworks. And, no, obviously it’s not a party on the rooftop with martinis and DJs and classy looking people. But it’s cozier and warmer and he’s with people he adores and maybe even someone he _loves_. But, of course, he’s not going to jump into that yet. It’s barely been a day, after all.

“Lou,” Harry mumbles against Louis’ neck when they’re cuddled up in Niall’s guest bedroom after everyone has left.

“Mm?”

“Happy anniversary.”

Louis turns to face Harry so he can give him a proper _what the fuck_ look. “What?”

Harry grins but quickly bites down on his lip to keep a poker face. “S’cause we’ve been dating since last year.”

Louis drops his jaw and flutters his eyes shut. “I can’t believe you just said that.”

“D’ya get it, though? Because yesterday it was 2013 and now –”

Louis shuts him up by connecting their lips and, yeah, maybe he will admit to loving him. Just a little. 

**Author's Note:**

> find me at [bravefortheboys](http://bravefortheboys.tumblr.com/) if ya wanna chat <3


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